


(When You Finally) Realize

by euhemeria



Series: And, In Sign of Ancient Love, Their Plighted Hands They Join [42]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 00:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14800749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euhemeria/pseuds/euhemeria
Summary: It seems to her, particularly of late, that there is always something new to notice about Fareeha, always something which she has not yet seen, understood, cataloged. The part of Angela which is a scientist likes for things to have distinct boundaries, to fit in neat categories, and Fareeha, a riot of contradictions, never will. She is, therefore, an endless source of fascination.Today, Angela notices how soft Fareeha is.Or,Angela realizes, quite suddenly, that not only is she not quite nearly so straight as she previously believed, but she is, in fact,veryin love with her best friend.





	(When You Finally) Realize

**Author's Note:**

> this is ten thousand years late but it's a bday gift for emilia
> 
> and best read w high and now im fallin... that takes place abt two weeks before this

In the days of the original Overwatch, Angela rarely took a moment to herself; this was not because it was expected of her, or even because such a culture was endemic to the base on which she worked, but because she came at some point in her life to see any moment spent not working as a moment in which she could be saving someone, and therefore as a selfish risk to the wellbeing of others, and although she knows that such thinking is irrational, and breaks are beneficial, she has never been entirely able to shake the feeling.

Or, rather, has almost never been able to do so.

Fareeha cannot make Angela forget her work, nor her guilt, but it is still somehow easier, with her, for Angela to forgive herself for pausing, for spending an afternoon in the sun, and not searching for the next miracle cure. With Fareeha beside her, asking her to just stay a moment longer, it easier to ignore the voice in her head, sounding so much like many of her mentors, telling her that she is the only chance for the people she might save with her research.

(A voice that sounds, too, not unlike another Captain Amari, who when urging Angela not to quit Overwatch reminded her that  _ only she  _ could discover the things that she had, that  _ only she  _ could have saved so many of her friends, her comrades from death, and without her then—suffice to say that Fareeha is the Amari whose company she prefers, with whom she has a far healthier relationship.  So many of her comrades compare Fareeha to her late mother, but Angela never could; there is no contest, in her mind.)

So it is that, after a physically exhausting morning spent training, Angela does not return to her lab, but instead stays outside with Fareeha, both of them having stripped their upper body armor—and wings with it—in order to sit more comfortably, enjoying one of the last warm afternoons of Autumn. The two of them are not doing anything, not really, are not even speaking to one another, are content only to be in each other’s company, and Angela almost feels guilty for it, would, if she were not so distracted by Fareeha's mere presence.

It seems to her, particularly of late, that there is always something new to notice about Fareeha, always something which she has not yet seen, understood, cataloged. The part of Angela which is a scientist likes for things to have distinct boundaries, to fit in neat categories, and Fareeha, a riot of contradictions, never will. She is, therefore, an endless source of fascination.

Today, Angela notices how soft Fareeha is.

When they first met, Angela, like most people, noticed the things about Fareeha which are hard—her posture, her muscles, the line of her brow—the things which are somewhat intimidating in a career soldier of 1.8 meters. Of course, Angela was not intimidated then, could not have been, given the friendliness of Fareeha's smile, the looseness of her gestures when they moved past the initial nervousness of introductions, the jovial tone of her voice; no, Angela was not intimidated, even in the beginning, but still, she noticed hardness first.

(Angela wonders if that is intentional on Fareeha's part, the aura she projects, one which is every inch the perfect soldier, serious and steadfast; after all, it is nothing like the truth of her friend, so kind, so funny, so warm and caring, surely it  _ must  _ be intentional.  Or perhaps not—Angela has often suffered from the opposite perception, with others assuming that because of her profession, because of her life's work, because of  _ something  _ about her, she must be gentle, be soft, when in fact she is rarely either.)

The ways in which Fareeha can be hard are, of course, beautiful in themselves. 

Her resolve is something Angela greatly admires, something to which she can relate—a determination to see justice done, to help others because it is  _ right _ , and to do so in a way which is good and proper.  In anyone else, Angela might, hypocritically, see said steadfastness as stubbornness, and be frustrated when their viewpoints do not entirely align, but Fareeha, for all that she is ruled by her heart, is always able to explain why it is she feels what she does, and therefore why she believes her own methods best.  Even when Angela does not agree with her, Fareeha never seems to be  _ wrong _ , necessarily, is only ever approaching problems from a different angle and with a different background.

Informing many of her decisions is another sort of hardness, one which comes from being compared, so often, to her mother, and found wanting, which comes from the conflict between her mother and herself, which comes from the legacy of being an Amari, and not only  _ Fareeha _ .  This is something Angela will never—can never—understand, but it is something which has played a role in their friendship, is something about Fareeha she admires, that Fareeha is able to acknowledge that she was,  _ is _ , hurt by this, is able to feel that hurt, but not allow it to consume her.  It would be understandable if she never wanted to discuss it, or if doing so made her angry, but Fareeha neither runs from her past nor allows it to overtake her.

(It is a balance that, perhaps, Angela envies.)

Of course, there is, also, the hardness Angela noticed first, the strength in Fareeha's form, the exactness of her posture, the muscles which, although more svelte than bulky, she has worked hard to ensure remain strong.  There is something enchanting about watching her in action, the power and precision of her movements—so completely unlike the way Fareeha appears now, legs sprawled out in front of her, leaning back on her elbows, completely gentle and at ease with herself, with the both of them.

No, Fareeha is not all hard things at all, she never has been, and now that they know one another better, Angela can see all the ways in which Fareeha is soft.

Often, her eyes dwell on them; lips she has seen chapstick applied to before and after every flight, to combat potential dryness; the gentle slope of collarbones framing what are undoubtedly even softer breasts; a trim waist curving gently into wide hips. There is hardness to her, yes, in her muscles and features and the armor she wears, but it does not supersede the softness, could never.  Off duty, Fareeha is gentler than anyone.

That, too, is something Angela admires, Fareeha's softness, both in her personality and her physical form.  Even the parts of herself which  _ are  _ soft, Angela worries are made hard by her demeanor, by the stiffness with which she returns physical affection.

(Jesse has told her that she is  _ prickly _ , and although Angela rather suspects he chose the word because it enabled him to make a cactus pun, she does worry that to Fareeha, so much more physically demonstrative than herself, she must seem standoffish, must seem to reject the friendly gestures of affection Fareeha offers her so easily, when in fact she longs for them.)

At first, Angela thought she was envious, and that was why she finds herself dwelling upon Fareeha's appearance, but such is not the case. While Fareeha is beautiful—very beautiful, Angela would be a fool to try and deny it—so are many of their colleagues. Surely, if Angela envied Fareeha, she would envy, too, the others, but she does not.  Is Aleksandra not stronger? Is Satya's form not as well balanced as the rest of her? Does Mei not also have lovely lips, ones she, too, takes care to protect from chapping?

No, Angela does not stare at any of them so, and although it took her a long time, she rarely compares herself, now, to cis women, does not think her differences make her any lesser, most days.

Whatever Angela feels, it is not jealousy (although there is, of course, much about Fareeha that is worthy of being coveted).

Yet, for all that Angela tells herself she does not desire anything which Fareeha has, her eyes still linger.  Even now, they have drifted down from her eyelashes (thick and dark, but not at all prone to fluttering), tracing the lines of her face down to Fareeha's lips again.

She wonders, in that moment, what it must be like to kiss those lips, if they would feel so soft as they look.  They must, of course; it is Fareeha who chastises  _ Angela _ for forgetting to apply chapstick before flying, for biting at her lips.  Angela even knows what they would taste like, because she knows which chapstick it is Fareeha prefers, by now, has been lent it so many times that if she imagines it, she can almost taste Fareeha's lips on hers, can so easily let her eyes drift closed and think that the warmth on her body from the sun is from the heat of Fareeha's proximity, and that their hands, only lightly touching now, are entwined, as she leans in and—

—And Angela realizes, quite suddenly, that she need not wonder any longer what it is that draws her to Fareeha.

(To think that naught but a week before she had quietly asked Lena not to joke about she and Fareeha's not-relationship, and what seemed quite out of the question then is now something which she must consider seriously.)

To say it is unexpected would be an understatement;  _ yes _ , Fareeha is beautiful, and  _ yes  _ Fareeha is funny, and kind, and morally upright, and  _ yes,  _ she is closer to Fareeha than she has ever been with anyone, except for perhaps Jesse, but they are friends, and more importantly, Angela is not, so far as she knows, gay.

Or, as far as she  _ knew _ , rather, because there is no denying, now, that she is attracted to Fareeha; as soon as the thought enters her mind, everything falls into perspective, and quite suddenly it is hard for her to believe that she did not realize sooner, because  _ of course  _ she loves Fareeha Amari.

Of course she loves the woman with whom she feels more comfortable being vulnerable than anyone, and who offers support and an equal amount of vulnerability in return.  Of course she loves Fareeha, who is one of the few people who can discuss the morality of certain issues with Angela, disagree with her, and not lose an ounce of Angela's respect, because even when they are not in agreement Fareeha is able to articulate well enough that her position seems reasonable, and her motives are always altruistic.  Of course Angela loves Fareeha, who has made returning to Overwatch seem worth it, who is one of the few people capable of restoring her faith in the organization which nearly broke her.

Of course she loves her, and a part of Angela wants to say as much, immediately, both because she wants Fareeha to know (and knows, too, that Fareeha is, or was a few months prior, interested in her as well), and because it is to Fareeha Angela most often goes when she is in need of advice, particularly as it pertains to her emotions, but Angela knows, too, that so doing would not be a good idea.

(Rushing into things has rarely, if ever, served Angela well, is something Fareeha, brave and quick on her feet, is far more sorted to.)

After all, what will she say?  How could she explain it, when a few months previously she told Fareeha on no uncertain terms that she was  _ barely  _ interested in dating men, and not at all interested in women.  It was true, then, and ought, still, to be true now—and therein lies the real problem, Angela realizes, suddenly, that she does not know as much about herself as she thought, and how can she pursue this if she is uncertain?

(Fareeha deserves more, Angela thinks, than uncertainty, deserves someone who can love her wholly and constantly, without fear or reservation, for that is surely how Fareeha approaches loving others.  At the moment, Angela is not certain she can give Fareeha that, is not even certain that this will last, that this is not all some passing infatuation as the result of the number of times they have saved one another, or the amount of time they spend just the two of them, or the fact that Fareeha knows many of the worst things about her and has not shied away—and Angela is lonely, has not had a serious relationship since before Overwatch fell, and Fareeha is  _ here _ .  It does not feel right, that worry, but it would not do to pursue Fareeha before allaying it.)

There is so much that Angela does not know, yet, about how she feels about this situation, about how she feels about  _ herself _ , about her capacity to be attracted to women—surely, if she never realized before, there must be a  _ reason _ —and she does not want to hurt Fareeha by beginning something that she is not prepared to follow through on, particularly when Fareeha is so dedicated in all her pursuits that Angela cannot imagine her in a casual romance. 

No, Angela will not risk what the two of them have currently with undue haste, will not risk their friendship until she knows, for sure, that she means this, will say nothing until she has considered, carefully, her feelings, and how it is she will explain them to Fareeha.

(There is another fear: that Fareeha will ask her  _ why now,  _ will say  _ I thought you weren't into women _ , and Angela will not know what to say.  Perhaps as a result of her childhood status as a prodigy, there is little Angela fears more than not  _ knowing  _ things, not being able to answer questions posed to her; it makes her feel stupid, and useless, and wanting, and none of those things are the right sort of mood to be in when trying to discuss something potentially life changing.)

For now, there is nothing to say, nothing to be done but sit back and return to watching the clouds with Fareeha, content as she can be with what they have right now—naught to do but that, and pointedly  _ not  _ thinking about how, five minutes earlier, she did not know that she wanted anything more than this, anything beyond lunches, and late nights together in the kitchen, and quiet moments like these to themselves, away from the chaos of the base and demands of their lives.

(It is hard, too, to believe that she could ever have felt content with only that.)

Later, when the two of them have parted ways for the evening, she will be able to think about this more seriously, will be able to make charts and measure her risks, her potential losses and gains, to weigh the value of the gamble and make a determination.  Later, she will be able to consider her past feelings, to wonder how it is she could have missed something so great as  _ this _ , to try and sift through the past for signs, for indications she might have always found women attractive, to decide what this means for her in terms of not only her relationship with Fareeha but how she identifies herself—to decide if this potential for romance is unique to her relationship with Fareeha, or if she has always had the capacity to love other women, and what either of those things mean to her.  Later, she will be able to try and rationalize her emotions, to categorize herself and her feelings as her scientific inclinations demand, and from there decide upon a way forward.

For now, however, she can do nothing, and so she follows the advice Fareeha gave her before their mission a week ago, to try to accept that there is nothing she can do to change the outcome of their situation in the present moment, and therefore cease worrying about it.

(Nothing is for her quite so easy, and she does not relax fully, but she does feel better when, after a deep breath or two, she glances to the side and sees Fareeha sitting with her, just as she was before, face tilted back to feel the full warmth of the sun.)

There is little she can do for now, save for this:

She moves the hand which touches Fareeha's own, interlocking their fingers.

"Fareeha?" she asks.

A hum of acknowledgement from Fareeha, followed up only after some seconds by a single eye cracking open and a question, "Yes?"

What she wants to say is  _ You're one of the best people I have ever known  _ or  _ I don't know how I was happy before I met you, my life has been improved so much by having you in it _ or  _ I think I might care more for you than I have ever cared for anyone, and that scares me so, so much. _

(For if Angela loves Fareeha, then Angela might  _ lose  _ Fareeha, and Angela has lost so much already that she cannot bear to do so again, to make herself vulnerable to the pain she knows accompanies such a loss.)

Instead, what she says is simply, "I'm very lucky to have met you."

Even if it is not a fraction of the things she wants to say, her tone is unmistakably one of confession; Fareeha's expression afterwards makes as much clear, the seriousness, suddenly, which marks her face, but perhaps she knows how nervous Angela is, how fragile in this moment, because a few seconds pass before she adopts a more jovial tone, leaning to bump her shoulder against Angela's and saying simply, "Given how last week's mission in Herzegovina went, I'd say  _ I'm  _ the lucky one."

"You shouldn't joke about that!" Angela chides, but her heart is, truthfully, not in it, because no matter what brought them to this point, Angela is simply happy to be  _ here _ .

No matter what happens, whether or not she decides to try to pursue something further, her life is better with Fareeha in it.

There is nowhere and no one she would rather be with.

**Author's Note:**

> i literally had surgery this morning and typed this on my phone this evening but sometimes thats just how it is
> 
> title is from 1d's ready to run
> 
> lmk ur Thoughts <3


End file.
